


The Asset and The Rogue

by Butterynutjob



Series: Chuck / Cherik pastiche AU [2]
Category: Chuck (TV), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Art, Lederhosen, M/M, Making Out, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is trying to get used to living a life as an asset of the CIA and NSA with his fake-but-not-fake boyfriend Erik when he has to go on his first mission to help catch the mysterious art thief "The Rogue."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Logan walked up to Charles in the Buy-More with a smirk. "Have you seen your boyfriend recently?"

Charles was busy price-tagging boxes of blank CDs. He made a show of stopping to think about it. "Not in a couple days," he said with a small shrug. 

In fact, it had been almost 48 hours since their last awkward lunch date, the date that happened the day after they made out at the beach until dawn. Charles was very much aware of how long it had been because he'd decided that he would wait 72 hours before he contacted Erik; he didn't want to appear too eager.

"He wants to see you," Logan said with a grin Charles didn't quite understand. "He's at the Wienerlicious. You should head over on your break."

"Ah, well, ok," Charles said. Logan clearly found something amusing, although he wasn't broadcasting exactly what that was to Charles. 

And although he didn't want to appear too eager, apparently Erik had asked for him.

The Wienerlicious was a german-themed fast-food restaurant that served brats and sausages. Charles had never eaten there but it had been in the same strip mall as the Buy-More for as long as he could remember, and it was often cited as a landmark due to the garish decor on the exterior of the building.

He soon discovered the inside was worse. The tables were shaped like hot dogs and buns. And the one employee in the store was Erik, dressed in orange and yellow lederhosen. 

Charles gasped and desperately wanted to laugh but quickly turned it into an embarrassed cough at the look on Erik's face. 

"What are you doing here," Erik said flatly, self-consciously tugging at the bottom of his left shorts leg. The outfit seemed to be made for someone about six inches shorter than Erik, and on his six-foot frame they seemed almost inappropriately short. 

"I, uh, well, Logan said you wanted to see me," Charles managed, trying to decide if seeing that much of Erik's thighs was sexy enough to counterbalance the ridiculousness of the entire outfit. 

"I bet he did." Erik's annoyed expression became tinged with embarrassment. "I'm supposed to get better-fitting lederhosen next week," he muttered.

"Well, don't do it on my account," Charles said, a grin stealing across his mouth as he decided it was okay to stare after all. "What are you doing here at all?"

"It's a cover job," Erik sighed. "Like Logan has at the Buy-More. Except I think I pissed off MacTaggert or something, because I'm here instead." He turned around at the sound of a beep and removed a basket of fries from oil. "So I can keep an eye on you."

Charles thought the too-small lederhosen framed Erik's backside nicely, too. "So can I order a sausage from you?" he said lecherously.

Erik turned around and fixed Charles with his green-eyed gaze. "Is this funny to you?"

"It most certainly is," Charles said without hesitation, smiling. "And I actually _would_ like a sausage. I've never eaten here."

Erik shrugged. "Your funeral. Have a seat, and I will bring you _a sausage_."

Charles, smirking, sat down at one of the three hot-dog booths in the small restaurant. Someone had left a newspaper on the tabletop and it was open to the art section. Charles thought something about the painting that was pictured looked interesting--

\--Charles inhaled sharply as information about the painting rushed to fill his awareness. It was called "Waterlillies," and it was painted by a mutant artist in the nineteenth century. It had recently been stolen and recovered by the NSA, and the thief, a man code-named "The Rogue" by the CIA, had never been caught and was rumored to still be pursuing stealing the painting--

Charles went pale as his mind mechanically processed and sorted the information. Erik turned to look at him and at the expression on Charles' face, Erik had leaped the counter and was standing with his back to Charles in a protective stance, holding a gun, looking for the threat.

Charles wondered irrelevantly where Erik had been hiding the gun as he said, "Erik, it's fine, I just--flashed, I guess, on a lot of information about the painting in this newspaper article."

Erik picked up the newspaper without putting his gun down. "This painting? Looks pretty ugly to me."

"Well, as someone who took an art history class at Oxford--" Charles began to say archly, looking assessingly at the picture himself. He found himself agreeing with Erik's opinion, though. "--I have to agree. Honestly, I don't see how this merits the recent interest it has garnished."

Erik finally put his gun down. "Tell me what you saw."

Charles relayed the information he’d gotten from the Intersect on the recent theft and recovery and the mysterious thief The Rogue. Erik frowned thoughtfully, and skimmed the article associated with the picture. "The article says it will be auctioned off tomorrow evening at the Grand Ambassador hotel," he murmured as he read. He looked up at Charles. "I'll need to talk to MacTaggert about this. Can you and I have a date tonight?"

"Uh, yes, sure," Charles stammered, then remembered he didn't want to occur too eager. "I mean, I'll have to check my calendar. I might have made plans with Hank."

Erik arched an eyebrow at him, and a few expressions flitted rapidly across his face. "What kind of date do you think I am talking about?"

Oh. Spy stuff, of course. Charles felt his cheeks reddening as he mumbled, "I'm sure Hank will understand."

Erik grinned, for some reason looking smug. "I'll pick you up at nine, then. For now--here's your sausage." 

Charles tried to find a joke in response to Erik’s statement but couldn’t think of anything that struck the right tone. He tried not to be too excited about the fact that he was going to see Erik that evening as he ate the, frankly, mediocre frank Erik had made for him.

**

Erik picked up Charles and they drove to a park. To Charles, surprise Erik didn’t waste any time, reaching for Charles eagerly right away. Charles enthusiastically returned his interest and the two men made-out for about fifteen minutes before Charles said breathlessly, "Are we waiting for a call from MacTaggert?"

Erik scraped his teeth on Charles' neck, earning a low moan from the other. "No, I spoke to Moira about your flash earlier."

"Oh." Charles' attention had strayed from Erik kissing his chest. "Um, isn't that why we're here?"

Erik hummed, still kissing. "No, _this_ is why we're here."

Charles ran his fingers through Erik's hair as a giggle escaped his lips. "Agent Lehnsherr, did you ask me out under false pretenses?"

"I _am_ a spy," he reminded Charles, running his hand over Charles' shoulder and down his back, pulling him closer to Erik. "Duplicity is my nature."

Forty-five minutes later, the car windows were covered with condensation.

"Ow. Can you not--"

"Wait, I can--hang on a second--"

"Ouch! Oh, ok, yes, _that's_ good..."

Erik's back was pressed into the drivers' side door inside his car as he tried desperately not to push the horn with his elbow at the feeling of Charles' tongue on his penis for the first time. Charles was awkwardly stretched over the center divider, frustrated and panting. They had been making out in the tiny and uncomfortable car for long enough and Charles was more than ready to move this along, thank you very much. 

Erik gasped and clutched with both hands at Charles' hair, fisting his hands in Charles's hair with the effect of keeping Charles from getting his mouth around what Charles so very much wanted to mouth. Charles made a frustrated noise and sat up, breathing heavily and trying to rein in his thoughts before Erik heard something Charles didn't want him to. 

"Patience, Charles," Erik purred, leaning over to kiss Charles on the neck some more. 

Charles tried to swallow his irritation. _Erik_ was the one who required patience. Despite that Erik wanted Charles to believe that he was a sophisticated spy with plenty of sexual experience with men, Charles would have known the truth even if he hadn't been a telepath from the way Erik trembled every time he touched Charles. Not that that wasn't hot as hell; the excitement Erik felt was intoxicating and feeling that from him made it hard for Charles to be patient. 

Part of the problem was the setting, Charles realized. He was not going to get Erik to relax enough to be ready to move their physical relationship to the next step in the steamy-windowed front seat of Erik's tiny car. "Why don't we go back to my place," Charles suggested with a sly smile, angling his head so Erik could kiss his neck more. (It seemed like Erik could not get enough of kissing Charles' neck.)

Erik mumbled something Charles couldn't quite hear. "What was that, love?" Charles whispered, putting his hand on Erik's thigh and feeling distracted by the firm muscle there until what Erik said percolated into his awareness and he frowned. "Did you say cameras?"

"Mmm."

"Erik, did you say _cameras?_ At my place?" Charles pushed Erik off enough to make eye contact and glare at him. 

"Charles..." Erik exhaled and spoke carefully. "You're a major asset of the CIA and NSA combined." His tone sounded distinctly patronizing to Charles, even though he said it while rubbing Charles' hand against his cheek. "Quite honestly, you're lucky they even let you walk around at all. If it was one agency or the other they'd probably have you locked up in an underground research facility for the rest of your life." He reached for Charles again. "But fortunately for us, my car isn't bugged..."

Charles stared at Erik in a mixture of shock, anger and horror. "I can't believe you," he finally said flatly and got out of the car and started walking back to his apartment. They were only a few blocks away, and with vicious pleasure Charles made himself invisible to Erik so that when he drove slowly down the street a few minutes later, clearly looking for Charles, his gaze slid right past the brunette man. Charles felt a little guilty about the anxiety it sparked in Erik's mind, but then he remembered _cameras_ and decided Erik could wait a little longer before realizing where he went. 

**

At least the fact that Erik had asked Charles out under false pretenses made Charles feel like less of a cad for being frustrated with Erik's inexperience-- _No, that's not quite right,_ he realized. _I'm frustrated that he keeps trying to pretend he's something he's not._

Well, Erik had at least been honest about the fact that he was duplicitous. 

The ridiculousness of that thought made Charles laugh out loud and he suddenly felt not so upset at Erik until he remembered there were cameras in his home. He had just reached his apartment and decided to check his phone, which had been buzzing up a storm in his pocket as he walked home. 

Charles saw as he walked into his living room that he had received five text messages from Erik. He scanned them and saw they were mostly apologies tinged with frustration. He was about to send a reply text when Raven said, "Oh, hey, I think I remember you! You used to live here, right?"

"Very funny, Raven--you've been gone as much as I have," Charles pointed out, flopping on the couch next to his sister and promptly putting his head in her lap.

"Yes, all-night shoots will do that," she agreed. "I could deal with not seeing you just fine, actually, except that you've had, what, two dates with your new guy and I haven't even met him yet?"

"Three, actually," Charles mumbled, as Raven stroked his hair. It was very relaxing, which is probably why Charles said the following words: "I'm not sure it's going so well," he said thoughtlessly and then froze.

"What? Why not? He'd be crazy not to like you," Raven exclaimed loyally. 

Charles closed his eyes and smiled tiredly. "Oh, he definitely likes me. It just seems that there's--um--a veracity problem?" He winced as he said it, opening one eye and squinting up at Raven, realizing what his sister's likely reaction would be. 

Raven flickered blue and her brow furrowed. "He's a _LIAR?_ " she hissed.

"Uh, well, umm..." Charles didn't want to set his sister against Erik before they'd even met, but he couldn't think of an honest response that wasn't damning to Erik in some way--at least, not without violating national security.

"Haven't you had enough of liars, Charles?" Raven said angrily, her hands running through his hair a little more painfully now. "After Tony, I mean?"

"Yes, I _did_ know what you meant, and in all fairness Raven I don't know for sure that Tony lied to me," Charles said uncomfortably.

"Charles! He basically ran off with your roommate, didn't he? You don't think there was any deception involved with that?"

Now that Charles knew a little more about what his roommate Emma Frost had been involved with, it seemed--well, it seemed more likely than ever that Tony's abrupt departure from Charles' life with Emma did involve deception. "Point taken," he sighed heavily. "But Erik is--he's confused, I think, more than anything else," He thought about it and shook his head. "Well--conflicted, maybe."

"What's he confused and conflicted about?"

The question hung there and Charles thought about answering honestly. It didn't seem to risk national security for anyone, and might make Raven more sympathetic to Erik--which, even if he didn't necessarily deserve that, would make Charles' life easier. Because at least for the time being, Erik wasn't going anywhere.

"He's--he hasn't been with a man before," Charles said slowly. "But he wants me to think he has been." That much, Charles could tell Raven. The cameras were an entirely different matter but it's not like he could really talk about that with Raven.

"Oh." Raven was thoughtful. "Does he know you're--?" she wiggled her fingers in their sibling symbol for telepathy.

Charles nodded. 

"Well," said Raven slowly. "It seems to me that you could--gently--let him know that you know the truth. And that you're okay with it. Because I assume you're not _that_ big a jerk."

Charles smiled at the jibe and thought about it. _Of course_ that was what he should do. Erik would feel awkward for a few minutes but as long as he knew Charles still wanted him...

"Raven, thank you." Charles sighed and smiled up at his little sister. "That's--perfect. That's exactly what I should do." Charles suddenly felt very glad that he had decided to confide in his sister. It wasn't complicated, this didn't have to do with espionage or national security, it was just a typical relationship problem that could be solved with common sense, consideration, and communication. 

"I'm a genius, what can I say," She said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a smirk. "Now, before I find out this guy's whole life story do I get to _meet_ him someday?"

Charles chuckled. "Yes, of course, I will make sure of it."

**

Charles and Raven caught up on each other's lives for another forty-five minutes or so when he excused himself to go to bed. He took his phone out of his pocket as he walked down the hall and realized he had never texted Erik back. He had just entered his bedroom and shut the door when he heard, "Xavier."

Charles whirled at the sound of his name and saw Logan standing just outside his open window, pressed against the screen. "Logan!" Charles snapped in a whisper, instinctively shooting a glance towards the living room where his sister was still probably sitting. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lehnsherr said you weren't responding to his texts. Came to check on you." Logan wasn't the least bit apologetic.

"Oh, I thought you had _cameras_ for that," Charles said, hoping that his voice was dripping with the sarcasm he was injecting into it, even though he was still whispering. 

"Oh, he told you about the cameras, huh? Interesting. But anyway, you weren't in your room, were ya?" Logan grinned. 

So the cameras were not in the living room. Charles felt a little better about that; at least his sister wasn't being spied upon. 

"I do hope you didn't come all the way over here just to see that I'm fine," Charles sighed, hands on his hips. Now he wouldn't feel comfortable undressing in his own room. Damn the CIA. And the NSA. 

"Oh, it wasn't far," Logan said casually. "I moved in next door."

Charles stared at him with a clenched jaw. "Please tell me that's a fucking joke," he spat.

Logan seemed highly amused by Charles. "Nope, I'm your new neighbor. Also, you and Lehnsherr are going on a mission tomorrow night, an art auction. That's what he's been trying to tell you if you looked at your damn phone once in a while."

Great. Just great. Was any of his life his own? "Fine. Okay. Now fuck off." Charles walked over and snapped his blinds shut with a vicious pleasure as they cut Logan off from view, then slid the window shut with an equally unpleasant satisfaction.


	2. Car and Arrival

Charles got home from work a little after six the next day and found a tuxedo hanging in his room with a note attached that said _8pm_ and nothing else. Charles stared at the neatly pressed tux wrapped in plastic, his mind whirling in several directions at once.

He wished that he hadn't avoided Erik quite so effectively the day before; Charles didn't know what the purpose was in him going to the art auction, or how he should behave, or if there was anything he should know about doing his first mission as a spy. (Would he get a code name? Would he be expected to carry a weapon?) Of course, on one hand it was kind of exciting, but he would have liked to have had some of his questions answered. Pride had won the battle with curiosity, though, and he had not contacted Erik or Logan to ask. He was still feeling very violated by the cameras Erik had told him were in his room.

In fact...Charles had started getting undressed right in the middle of his room before he remembered that there were cameras in there. He froze for a second, but then had a deviously attractive thought. _This will take some courage,_ he thought, so he went to the liquor cupboard in the kitchen and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey which he took a few minutes to sip, leaning against the pantry and planning, before heading back to his room. He checked the time and he thought he had time for everything he wanted to do, so he pushed his nervousness down and focused on his goal.

Charles stripped slowly, down to his blue boxer-briefs, feeling ridiculous for a moment until the whiskey kicked in and he felt his cheeks grow warm and his balance grew less steady. He turned on some driving music and thought about how he would feel if Erik were there, and he soon closed his eyes and moved his body in a way that was somewhere between dancing and sex, with a lot of hip thrusts, lip-biting, and hair tossing. 

Charles was very aware that of the two people he knew monitored his cameras, each would react very differently to this little display. He tried to think more about Erik than about Logan, for obvious reasons, although really the point of this was to discomfit Logan. Based on his actions so far, Logan would certainly give him shit about it, but he knew he was embarassing himself more than anyone else. No, to effect real change he would have to do something that made Logan _very_ uncomfortable. 

He'd thought it would be harder to do, but actually keeping the thought of Erik present in his mind, along with the alcohol he'd consumed, lowered his inhibitions quite nicely. Sitting on the edge of his bed, hopefully in sight of the cameras, Charles ran his hands over his chest and put his right hand into his briefs to touch himself. He lay back on his bed so his feet were still on the floor and his back was arched as he screwed up his courage and pushed the boxer briefs down so his erect penis was clearly visible from nearly any vantage in the room.

He made a show of licking his palm and then spit on it for good measure before getting a firm grip around the base of his cock and beginning to stroke with his right hand. He continued masturbating with his right hand as he moved his left up and down his chest, pulling on each nipple in turn and carding his fingers through his hair. It wasn't long before he was getting close--he knew how to get himself off quickly if necessary, of course, and the idea of Erik watching helped speed things along--and he deliberately let some whimpers escape as he climaxed, his back arching as semen spurted on his hand and his pale belly. 

He thought it might be going a little too far to lick off his fingers afterward, as he lay there panting in the aftermath of his orgasm, but he did it anyway, and then rolled off the bed and into his robe as he checked the time. Still plenty of time for a shower. Charles smirked to himself as he went down the hall to the bathroom. 

**

Freshly showered and feeling pretty smug about life, Charles went back into his bedroom only to find a tall tuxedoed Erik waiting for him on the far side of the bed. Charles gave him a mildly inquisitive glance and pretended not to notice how insanely hot the man looked in a tuxedo.

"What the fuck was that?" Erik hissed when Charles got close. "I told you there were cameras in here!"

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, Agent Lehnsherr, is what I do in the _privacy_ of my own room _disturbing_ to you?" Charles said in a syrupy sweet voice, brushing past Erik to get to his closet. 

Erik grabbed both of Charles shoulders from the back. To his surprise, Charles heard Erik chuckle. "Disturbing is not quite the right word, Charles," Erik whispered into the wet hair at the nape of Charles' neck, making goosebumps rise on Charles’ flesh even though the breath was warm. "Although I don't think Logan reacted as positively as I did." Erik pulled the robe off Charles, letting it fall to the floor, until Charles stood naked in front of him, facing away. "I wanted to--" Erik hesitated, and even though Charles desperately wanted to hear the end of that sentence, and could in fact pick up some very intriguing visuals from the taller man's mind, he wasn't surprised when Erik stopped. "Logan, however, was traumatized, and insisted I come in here to move the cameras right away. So you won," he finished, and pressed a kiss to one of Charles freckled shoulders. 

"So no more cameras in my room?" Charles whispered, smiling, until another thought occurred to him. "Is it bugged?"

"Yes," said Erik. _So you will have to learn to be quiet,_ he thought, running his hands down Charles’ hips.

 _Well that's a waste of bloody time,_ Charles thought, annoyed. Bugging a telepath? All that would be prevented were phone calls and sex noises. And that was the annoying part. 

Charles felt a pulse of amusement from Erik. _That's government bureaucracy for you._ His touch became more firm and deliberate, as Charles turned and pressed a quiet kiss to Erik’s cheek. 

"I have an event to get dressed for, Agent Lehnsherr," Charles said clearly, sending Erik a pulse of warmth and regret. "Would you mind waiting in the living room?"

Erik gave him slow smile and inclined his head the tiniest bit. He moved past Charles to get to the bedroom door and went out to wait in the living room. 

_Well, that was partially successful,_ Charles thought to himself. The possibility of using a gag flitted across his mind before he checked the time and resolutely decided to deal with that idea later. 

**

Charles came out of the room a few minutes later, dressed to the nines. The tux fit him perfectly. Erik stood up when he came out to the living, giving him a slow once-over and clearly appreciating the view, but he only said, “I’m glad it fits. Are you ready to go?”

“Of course,” Charles said smoothly. Only once they were outside and in the car--a towncar Charles had never seen before--did Charles let any of his other thoughts out. “Why I am going to this thing, anyway?” The car began moving and Charles wondered why Erik wasn’t driving as usual. 

“Colonel MacTaggert wants to see if you flash on anything, or anyone,” Erik explained, as he reached inside a coat pocket and pulled out a small box. “Also, I got you something.”

“Oh, Erik.” Charles smiled brilliantly and would have said more but Erik’s eyes widened slightly and darted to the front seat as he thought to Charles, _Just so you know, our driver is Logan._

Oh. The divider between the driver’s compartment and the passenger compartment was closed but it wasn’t completely opaque and certainly not sound-proof, so right now he and Erik were just pretend-boyfriends. Charles wondered irritably what the consequences would be if Logan knew what was really happening between Charles and Erik, and he resolved to ask Erik about that at his first opportunity. But at the moment, there was a handsome man holding out a box to him with an expectant look on his face.

Charles accepted it and opened it to see a very lovely watch. “Oh, this is wonderful,” he breathed, noting that it seemed to be made of some kind of titanium alloy, although really that was Erik’s forte--

Charles demeanor changed abruptly as he realized why he was getting this gift. “This is so you can track me,” he said flatly. There was probably a GPS in the watch, but even if there weren’t, Erik would no doubt be able to sense the metal.

 _You ran away from me last night,_ Erik reminded him mentally. _I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are._ Out loud, he said, “Well, it’s a compromise, since you didn’t seem to like the cameras.”

Charles glared at Erik for a minute before he reluctantly started to put the watch on. “Here, let me,” Erik murmured, putting Charles hand flat on Erik’s thigh so he could fasten the watchband, adding a few extra caresses to Charles wrist and palm that weren’t strictly necessary as he did so. 

Charles pulled his hand back petulantly and gazed out the dark-tinted windows. “Is there anything else I need to know for tonight?”

“Well, I am assuming with your upbringing that you could dance if you need to,” Erik replied, seeming a little uncomfortable. 

Charles frowned a bit. “Yes, I can handle that.” He did know how to dance, of course, although it had been a while. He thought back to the last time he could remember dancing and realized it had been with Emma, shortly after they had become roommates at Oxford. They had gone to a formal event together, and danced with only each other, because nobody wanted to touch the telepaths. There was a sentiment at Oxford that touching a telepath made it easier for them to read one’s mind, and anti-telepath sentiment was relatively high at Oxford. He and Emma had made the best of it, laughing and determinedly having a good time, even though they were not remotely each other’s type. Charles felt a pang at the memory. Before Emma had betrayed him by stealing his boyfriend, they had been good friends once, even if that was just out of necessity, and Charles couldn’t help but mourn that lost relationship. 

“Earth to Chuck,” Logan was saying from the front seat as the divider rolled down. “We’re almost there. All you need to do tonight is look at stuff and let Lehnsherr know if you see anything that makes you flash, okay?”

“Oh,” said Charles innocently, “I thought Agent Lehnsherr just mentioned there might be dancing. You’ve seen my dancing, haven’t you, Agent Logan?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Logan growled.

**

The ballroom at the Grand Ambassador hotel was not as large as Charles had been expecting. As they entered, Charles turned to Erik, suddenly panicking. “Do I need a code name? What if we get separated? Are we--are we a--couple, here?”

“No, don’t worry about it, and--yes, if you want to be,” Erik said with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to Charles’ temple. “If we get separated, I can find you from your watch, or you can call to me,” the man tapped his temple surreptitiously by way of explanation. 

Charles took a deep breath and closed closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them, smiling. “Okay. Thank you. Am I allowed to have a drink?”

“Probably not a good idea,” Erik said, scanning the room. “Just look around, keep your eyes open, tell me what you see.”

Charles did that, trying to hide his irritation at being denied a drink. What was the point in being a spy if one couldn’t order a vodka martini shaken-not-stirred? “I see a bunch of rich white Republicans,” he said flatly. “Nobody interesting, that’s for sure. Am I allowed to use the restroom? Sir?”

Erik gave him an exasperated look. “You can really be a brat sometimes,” he said, and Charles picked up a fleeting image from Erik of Erik putting Charles over his knee and spanking him. 

Charles’ lips curved into a smile. “Maybe later,” he purred, sending the image right back to Erik, who flushed instantly. “For now, I’m going to use the restroom.” And he had every intention of sneaking off to get a drink after that, but there was no point in mentioning that to Erik.

Charles did actually have to relieve himself, though, and he couldn’t help but notice when the words _The Rogue_ flitted through the mind of the man at the urinal next to Charles’. Without moving his eyes, Charles slipped inside the man’s mind, to see if there was anything else to find, but the man had shields in place similar to Erik’s. Charles chanced a glance and saw a tall man, blond hair, with a distinctly terrifying expression on his face. Charles snapped his eyes back forward when the man noticed his stare. 

“Do we know each other?” the man asked, his face hardening further.

“I--maybe, ah, you look, ah, well, I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?” Charles wanted to kick himself as soon as the words came out of his mouth, as hitting on the bad guy was probably not his best move ever. 

However, the man relaxed and snorted softly. “No. Thanks.” Charles picked up quite clearly that the tall man wasn’t interested in men, but he also did not seem to suspect Charles of anything other than being extremely tacky, hitting on someone in the men’s room at an art auction. 

Charles let out a shaky exhale of relief when the man left the restroom. He decided to forego the drink and find Erik again right away.

“Erik,” Charles whispered, as soon as he found his date again. Feeling paranoid, he immediately switched to telepathic communication. _I think I found The Rogue. He’s a tall blond man, black tuxedo, terrifying facial expression,_ Charles pushed the image of the man into Erik’s mind. 

Erik nodded, all business, scanning the room. “Thank you, Charles. Go to the bar and wait for further instructions.” Erik saw his target and moved towards the tall man purposefully. 

The bar? Charles could do that. “Be careful, have fun, whatever,” he waved to Erik, who was long out of earshot before Charles could finish speaking. Charles made a beeline for the bar. 

“Vodka martini; shaken, not stirred,” Charles called to the bartender, whose back was to him. 

“Isn’t that a little on-the-nose...sir?” Logan said, turning around. 

Charles frowned at him. “You’re the bartender _and_ the driver? Double-duty tonight, Logan?” 

“Whatever needs doing,” Logan grunted, handing Charles a drink in a martini glass. Charles made a face as he tasted it - water and olive juice, as far as he could determine. 

“Don’t expect a tip,” Charles muttered. No wonder Erik had told him to go to the bar. 

He continued looking around the room, wondering if he could exert enough mind control over Logan to get a real goddamned drink when somebody bumped him from behind, spilling his god-awful beverage.

“Hey, buddy, I am so sorry about that,” said a familiar voice. Charles heart plummeted as he turned slowly around to see his ex-boyfriend, the infamous Tony Stark. 

“Let me get you a new--Charles!” Tony exclaimed upon seeing Charles’ face. The inventor had the grace to flush slightly. “Wow, I was not expecting to see you here. How are you?”

“Not drunk enough,” Charles muttered. “But other than that, just peachy. How’s the super hero business going?”

“Ah, Charles,” Tony looked at him fondly and shook his head. “We had some good times. What happened? Are you seeing anyone?”

Charles felt the blood drain out of his face. How could Tony be so--casual? So cavalier? He had broken Charles’ heart, and now he was acting like Charles was just another person in his black book, instead of someone he’d dated exclusively (to Charles’ knowledge, anyway, although he wouldn’t put infidelity past the man) for over two years?

Charles’ mouth was working, trying to form a response, when Logan seemed to take pity on him and he found his hand resting on the bar had a glass of whiskey in it. He gratefully took a large swallow and fixed Tony with a glare. “I’m doing spectacularly,” he said, calmly. “I’ve secured a managerial position with an electronics conglomerate. And I am seeing someone, in fact. A fellow mutant,” he added. Charles knew that unlike most baseline humans, Tony admired and envied mutants, and he couldn’t resist the jibe.

“That’s wonderful, Charles,” Tony said warmly, without even a flicker of response at Charles’ mutant jibe. “Is he here?” 

“Yes, in fact--” Charles scanned the room and saw Erik speaking to the tall blond man Charles had inadvertently propositioned in the bathroom earlier. “That’s him. The tall man with auburn hair.” Erik did look impressively handsome, and Tony raised his eyebrows in appreciation. 

“Nice,” he said. “Except--oh, ouch.” The blond man had stepped close to Erik, and from where Charles and Tony were observing the conversation, it looked like the two men were either having a very intimate conversation or kissing. 

Charles turned morosely back to the bar. “Yeah, well, that’s how it goes for me, doesn’t it?” he said bitterly. “Stolen away by other people.” He had finished his whiskey and was looking for Logan to pour him another, but Logan was nowhere to be seen and another man was standing behind the bar. “Another, sir?” the new bartender said. 

“Yes,” Charles said emphatically. “Yes, yes.”

Tony looked at Charles with an expression Charles couldn’t quite fathom. He thought about reading Tony’s mind but he really couldn’t bear to see how much Tony probably pitied him. “Charles, when I--with Emma--it wasn’t--” 

“Really, Tony, it doesn’t matter,” Charles said quickly, accepting a whiskey from the new bartender and putting down what was probably way too much money to pay for it. “It’s ancient history,” he said, putting on a charming, if fake, smile for his ex. He nodded towards the willowy strawberry blond woman who was approaching the two of them. “It looks like somebody’s looking for you.”

“They want way too much for the Rembrandt,” the woman said to Tony without preamble. Tony nodded, not appearing to hear her at all.

“Great, thanks, Pepper. Pepper Potts, Have you met Charles Xavier?”

“Nice to meet you,” she said automatically, eyes barely flicking to Charles. “The Ruisdael is starting at a reasonable price if you still want to bid on that,” she continued to Tony.

“Sure, whatever you want,” he said to her, still looking at Charles. “but, Pepper, this is _Charles Xavier._ ” 

“Yes, you said that,” she said slowly, and more than a little condescendingly. “I know who Mr. Xavier is, and I’m sure he understands that.”

Charles suddenly did understand, feeling the sharp order and precise logic of Pepper’s mind. She knew he was a telepath, she knew all about his relationship with Tony, and she didn’t want to dignify it with an appropriate response as Tony’s assistant because she wanted to be more than that to him. And Tony was oblivious to her designs, even though he had propositioned her more than once, but she was holding out for more than just a physical relationship and she was patiently waiting for him to understand.

Charles pursed his lips. “Good luck with that,” he said to Pepper and turned away from both of them to walk further into the painting exhibition area. 

“Charles, hey I was thinking we could all have dinner sometime,” Tony called after him and Charles ignored him. He was happy to realize that he didn’t want Tony anymore, although he did kind of wish that Tony’s life hadn’t been going quite so swimmingly. Nevertheless, it felt good to have this small bit of closure, Charles thought. Or maybe that was just the whiskey making him feel good.


End file.
